


tomorrow, with you

by bleaknight30times



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Lee Seon/Shin Heungbok, M/M, Vivid Zine Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleaknight30times/pseuds/bleaknight30times
Summary: There isn't a cloud in the sky the day of the funeral.





	tomorrow, with you

There isn’t a cloud in the sky on the day of the funeral.

Seon knows he’s being selfish, and thinks he won’t be much help anyway, but he can’t help it — all he wants right now, with every fiber of his being, is to be at Heungbok’s side. 

The car ride is tense and silent, Secretary Chae obviously aware of his unease as they drive to the funeral house. He keeps glancing at Seon through the rearview mirror the whole way, following respectfully behind the head of household’s personal car. Seon lets out a sigh; though he can’t see him directly, it's still as if his father’s presence is looming over him. 

Once they’ve parked, Seon opens the car door and gets out himself before Secretary Chae can do it for him. 

“It's not me who needs worrying over, Secretary,” Seon says, trying his best to smile. Secretary Chae looks startled at Seon’s words, then frowns slightly.

“Young Master,” he starts, but Seon shakes his head to stop him and approaches the funeral house.

“Father.” He stops and bows in greeting to his father, who doesn’t bother to even look at him, much less return the greeting, but Seon expected nothing else. Quietly, he joins behind him in the line of mourners, their respective attendants following at a distance. 

The funeral house and flower wreaths are much more opulent than Heungbok’s family could have afforded on their modest salaries, and Seon confirms that his father must have paid for it as he watches Heungbok’s mother thank him. He doesn’t know if the knowledge makes him feel better or worse.

Though Seon himself did nothing, Heungbok’s mother nods in thanks to him as well when Seon steps in the memorial room. She seems resigned, but pale and weak as though merely a shadow of herself. Goeun is crying, and Heungbok is comforting her, his own expression stoic and tense. He’s doing his very best to be strong for them, but right now, just who is there for Heungbok? The question wounds Seon deeper than words can express.

And even though Seon can barely take his eyes off Heungbok, can scarcely stop worrying about him, he can’t help but get distracted by his own pain for a small moment. In that moment where he bows before the funeral photo, tears well up as he bids a silent last farewell to the kind-hearted man who taught him how to hold a paintbrush.

 

\--

 

The week after the funeral, Seon learns that Heungbok’s mother, who is staying with extended family, plans on permanently leaving the manor with Goeun. No one Seon asks seems to know what Heungbok has decided, and Heungbok himself hasn’t been available due to the various affairs he’s had to take care of now that he’s the head of his family.

The day of Heungbok’s return to the manor, Seon gets back late from another formal dinner with his father. At least, he thinks wryly, Hyegyeong and her father were there as well, so he was spared from drinking this time.

With his mind clear, and the manor still and silent, Seon lies awake and stares at the ceiling of his too-large room. He thinks about Heungbok’s father, and his own father, but mostly he thinks about Heungbok. 

Has he already fallen asleep? Has he been eating enough, lately?

Eventually, Seon gives up on sleeping and escapes his bedchambers, quietly passing through dark hallways until he reaches the quarters where Heungbok’s family used to live. He had come without any sort of plan, not realizing the full implications of his actions until he’s squarely in front of the door to Heungbok’s room, his heart pounding wildly and a lump forming rapidly in his throat. 

Even if he wants to see Heungbok, what if Heungbok doesn’t want to see him? The thought hurts, but Seon decides he has to at least try.

“Heungbok-ah?” Seon keeps his voice down, knocking very lightly so as to not disturb anyone else. 

Soon, the door cracks open. Heungbok looks like he hasn't slept much in days, but he still manages a watery smile when he sees Seon. “It’s late,” he admonishes Seon, but his tone is as gentle as always.

“I couldn’t sleep. Would you rather be alone?” Seon asks immediately, but Heungbok shakes his head.

“Stay as long as you’d like,” he offers, stepping back to let Seon into the room, and after closing the door behind him they both sit down on Heungbok’s bed.

Seon notes with a tinge of relief that none of Heungbok’s things are boxed up as of now, but decides not to mention it. It’s best not to say anything at all to start, he decides; instead, he covers Heungbok’s hand tentatively with his own, and waits for Heungbok to be the first one to speak. 

“I'm sorry, Seon-ah.” Heungbok tells him, breaking the silence. 

“Why are you sorry? I'm--” Seon begins to say, I'm the one who’s sorry I couldn't be there for you, but decides against it. He shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

Heungbok exhales slowly, his weariness apparent. “I just never thanked you or the Chairman properly at the funeral.”

“Thanks aren’t necessary,” Seon insists, and he thinks Heungbok tries to give him another smile but it doesn’t quite get there. 

A silence extends after that, too far for Seon’s comfort. If it were anyone else he might not, but Seon knows he can speak his mind in front of Heungbok, so he goes ahead and asks. “So I heard your mother and sister are going to find a new place soon, and… are you going to go with them?”

Heungbok hesitates; Seon sees him tense up. “If you want me to stay, I will,” he says carefully.

“But what do you want?” Seon asks, trying unsuccessfully to keep the shake from his voice.

Again, Heungbok pauses to mull over his response before he speaks. When he does, he gives Seon a real smile this time, warm and sweet and so, so familiar. “I want you to be happy, Seon-ah.” 

Emotions flood Seon before his thoughts catch up with them, and he fights back the tears that well up. “That sounds like you’re saying goodbye,” he protests. 

“Seon-ah, don’t cry.” Heungbok moves closer and wraps his arms around him, and even though they’ve held each other plenty of times this feels different. Heungbok’s embrace has always been his safe harbor, the one place where he could feel truly at ease, but now Seon only feels scared that it will slip away.

“I don’t think I could lose you too, not after losing my father,” Heungbok says, unknowingly paralleling Seon’s thoughts. Seon tightens his arms around Heungbok; he’s still not entirely sure if Heungbok really means what he thinks he means, what he hopes he means, but he’s sure about one thing.

“I only want you to be happy too, Heungbok-ah,” he confesses, pressing the bridge of his nose into Heungbok’s shoulder. “No matter what, I’m going to be here for you. I’ll be the one who’s here for you.”

Realizing his tears are staining Heungbok’s shirt, Seon pulls back to apologize, but stops before he can open his mouth. Heungbok’s gaze on him is steady, reassuring Seon as he reaches up to dry his tears. 

“You’re still just as emotional as back then,” Heungbok observes, his voice as fond as the way his hand brushes against Seon’s face.

“It’s true.” Seon laughs a little in agreement, but he feels himself flush when Heungbok looks at him like he’s— like he’s so much more special than he really is, or feels at least. It dawns on Seon that it’s the way Heungbok has always looked at him, and what blooms inside of him at that realization feels like a cross between sudden fireworks and the gradual unfurling of a flower. 

“Seon-ah.” Heungbok whispers his name once more, his voice holding a question Seon knows he doesn’t feel comfortable asking aloud. They’re only fifteen years old, still children in reality, and even though Seon believes his feelings for Heungbok are real part of him wonders if it’s truly possible to know what love is at their age. But those feelings have been there for so long, taking up so much of his heart, that he’s certain he wants Heungbok there by his side no matter what. He nods, cheeks burning hot, hoping Heungbok will know his answer as always. 

Heungbok leans forward tentatively, and Seon meets him there halfway. His eyelids flutter half-closed, and his lips press against Heungbok’s for one brief, tender moment, filled with every unsaid word passed between them since they were only seven years old. 

“Heungbokie...” Seon pulls Heungbok closer, needing full physical contact between them. Heungbok’s hand moves to the back of Seon’s head, stroking his hair, holding him steady as they share another kiss, slow and soft and careful, as if they were afraid everything would stop if they weren’t cautious. Seon has read and practiced and learned so many different things up until now, but kissing and touching Heungbok like this is completely uncharted territory, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“I’m not dreaming right now, am I?” Heungbok asks after a while, caressing Seon’s hair once more before resting his hand back on Seon’s cheek. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” Seon promises, a fresh round of tears welling up as he reaches up to squeeze Heungbok’s hand. “I’m yours, Heungbok-ah.” 

Heungbok kisses him again, filled with both reverence and hesitance, the feeling of his lips already so familiar to Seon even though tonight is his first time tasting them. Seon’s chest aches as he returns the kiss with just as much feeling, wondering how long he’s been thinking of kissing Heungbok, if Heungbok has wanted it since then too.

“I’m yours too, always,” Heungbok murmurs against Seon’s mouth, a promise that buries itself in the deepest parts of his heart. Seon lets himself imagine the shape of the words lying just beneath the ones spoken out loud, and dream of the shared future they paint in his mind.

 

\--

 

Heungbok awakens suddenly, disoriented after not realizing he had fallen asleep in the first place. Immediately, he registers the familiar weight and heat of Seon’s body pressed against his under the covers.

Seon is still fast asleep in Heungbok’s arms, and the sight of his perfect features so close up causes everything to come rushing back all at once. Their conversation, Seon’s wide eyes filling with tears, the slow, exploring kisses that continued right up until they fell asleep wrapped around one another.

I’m not dreaming right now, am I…?

Heungbok remembers asking that earlier, and can’t help thinking it again as he brushes a kiss to Seon’s forehead, adjusting the blankets so they’re more secure around Seon’s shoulders. He’d never allowed himself to believe it could really happen, that he and Seon could be together like this, but one smile, one word from Seon was enough to change everything. It always had been. 

Seon stirs in his sleep, snuggling closer to Heungbok. His hair tickles Heungbok’s cheek lightly as he tucks his head in close. Heungbok’s heart had been thumping loudly in his ribcage, but Seon’s presence is pure comfort, warm and soothing. Someday, Heungbok thinks as his eyes drift closed again, someday he’ll tell Seon about waking up on this night, about the lightness that bubbled up inside of him even with the weight of having lost his father.

Tonight, they’ll rest. Tomorrow, Seon will still be there next to him, and that’s how Heungbok knows that despite everything, they’ll find a way to be happy.


End file.
